


Sweet as Love

by Pontmercyingtilthecowscomehome



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Sweet, alternating pov, set after Empire Strikes back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:27:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25209196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pontmercyingtilthecowscomehome/pseuds/Pontmercyingtilthecowscomehome
Summary: During long nights standing vigil for their friends, a love blossoms between the spy and the princess
Relationships: Cassian Andor/Leia Organa
Comments: 7
Kudos: 9





	Sweet as Love

The command room is nearly silent, with only the faint beep of the map-walls and targeting computers interpreting the whir of mechanically charged air. The base is warmer than Echo Base had been, and yet, cooler than Yavin IV’s humid air. Leia listens for something to change, an alarm to go off or a warning bell to sound.

She also _listens_ in that strange way she cannot quite describe. It’s a feeling of reaching out, of brushing against _everything_ around her, as if she has her hands outstretched in a field of wildflowers. And if she concentrates, hard, she can condense the reaching, until she can feel one point, one heartbeat, at a time.

Luke’s; a solid, steady beat, as familiar to her as her own. Or perhaps, it is her own? No, say rather, a perfect reflection of it. When hers beats, his is silent. And when his is thudding, hers is calm. They are twins, and their heartbeats reflex that. Han’s; wild, too fast, too bold, and yet, warm. His is a perfect counterpoint to Lando’s slow, calming pace, and Leia is glad they have each other.

There are others, too, she can feel around her. Other heartbeats, other lives. Each one is no more than a dot on the map below her, but she knows them all. Shara’s; constant, driving, a rallying cry to others around her. Bodhi’s; softer, gentler, but steady all the same.

Leia can even feel the distant hum of processing units, both Threepio’s and Artoo’s. Each hum, each beat, is a single note in a song that she can barely hear and yet can feel in her bones.

Leia knows from the first days of the war that she will feel, too, if a heart stutters to a stop, out there in the battle, a hundred light years from her. There is no distance pain cannot travel, Leia has learned.

The silence of the room is broken, though, by the opening of a door and the fall of nearly-silent feet. A new heartbeat blossoms in that fuzzy field of-not-quite-vision too, the brave, sometimes stuttering, never weakening, pace of a soldier who has been in the fight for far longer than most.

Only a moment after she registers Cassian’s presence, her senses feel nearly drowned by a thousand other tiny thing; the curve of his jaw, the fold of his shirt color, the color of his eyes. She knows him so well, as a collage, and yet, Leia still finds herself overwhelmed by the wish to know him better, as… well. It doesn’t matter.

There is no time for wishes such as that in a war.

But still, she thinks, it would be nice to be allowed to see him as more than just a man she knows in glimpses and hopes, a being made more of dreams than reality. It's one of the reasons that as long and difficult as the nightly vigils they both take are, she finds them not as draining as they used to be. Cassian, for all his quiet, makes a strong companion.

For now, she settles by studying the way the stubble on his jaw looks. It’s thicker than usual, a sign that he hasn’t taken the time to trim, to relax, or probably even to relax.

“I think,” Cassian says slowly, breaking the silence that so often hangs between them, “it is sometimes easier to be there,” he nods down at the glowing dots on the map, each one representing a brave Rebel, fighting for more than just their life, but the survival of the cause, and the lives of all across the galaxy, “than here, waiting.”

She nods. Leia feels as if she has spent most of her life waiting. She tells herself that she's good at it, that she's perfected the art of waiting, after all these years, but even she can't make herself believe that.

* * *

Cassian watches the glowing map below him the way he used to watch targets in the sight of his sniper. Focused, unyielding, completely devoid of any emotion except for those that are the most important in the moment. Those emotions are all the ones that have kept him alive these long years of war and hardship. They’re emotions that are as cold and sharp as a blade, forged by heartbreak and perfected by loss.

They’re the emotions that keep him from getting too close to others around him, even those who he calls comrades. Cassian feels loyalty toward them, respect toward their shared cause, and dedication for the mission at hand.

None of those emotions, though, are the feelings that occur if he glances to his right to see the last princess of Alderaan watching the same map as him. Instead, that glimpse, of warm hazel eyes and soft curls of hair, escaped from a high braided bun, brings forth hope and longing and other wonderful, nearly terrible, emotions.

Terrible because he knows that in war, there is no time for such things as gentle as hoping for a kiss.

Wonderful, because without that bit of hope, his days here, helping on missions he is no longer strong enough to take part in himself, would be dark indeed.

Leia yawns, and though he pretends he doesn’t see it, he yawns too.

“You should rest,” she says, stealing his words from him.

He shakes his head. “Not yet. They could comm us at any time.”

It’s the burden they share, here in the tiny command room. They’re the eyes and ears of so many that risk their lives for the Alliance. They watch, from a distance, helping as much as they can to provide critical information to those troops deployed. And yet, for both Cassian and Leia, it feels as if they never can help enough.

Leia yawns again. Cassian knows she has stayed awake even longer than him. He’d nodded off in a chair, thanks to the ebb and flow of the pain medicine he needs for his old injuries from Scarif. Though they’d been able to save his life, he would never have the mobility he once had so relied on before.

It is a small price to pay for something as precious as a life. And the others, Jyn, Bodhi, all of them, had survived as well. They are among those represented below by nothing more than tiny blue dots.

“Sleep, princess,” he tells Leia, though he stays focused on the map below.

“But--”

“I’ll be here.” There’s no other place he could be, not when his cause and his friends need him here.

“You’ll shout, if…” Leia begins, but she trails off, as if too afraid to even speak what might happen. They have both watched too many battles be lost, and held their breath through even more close calls. The Rebellion has asked a great deal of them and given so little back to them. Ironically, the one thing they’d ask for, if they could, they are both too selfish to name.

Cassian knows firsthand that asking for someone to stay safe in a war is a fool’s request. He knows, too, that he cannot keep Leia safe, though he would die before seeing his princess come to harm. So, he offers, as he always has, what he can. “Go,” he tells her. If there is an errand she needs to complete, now, then it must be urgent indeed. “I will be here.”

Her hand reaches out, almost far enough to touch his shoulder, but hesitates. Cassian’s breath catches. A moment later, her slender hand tucks back in her billowing white sleeve. “Thank you,” she whispers, though there is no one in the room but them.

Some things, Cassian thinks, are meant for whispers. Like secrets and battle plans, hopes and those little thoughts a heart in the middle of war cannot name.

* * *

When Leia returns, the dark shadows are a little less visible below her eyes. But still she seems to melt into her too-large uniform. Her hair hangs in a long braid below her back, which swings as she re-enters the room, carrying a tray. Cassian tilts his head, for one moment looking away from the data screens. The tray is laden with two steaming mugs and a tray of simple Datoonine candied fruits. He arches an eyebrow. She sets the tray in front of him.

His eyebrow quirks as he stretches his tired arms. It’s a subtle motion that allows him to catch the smallest smile on her face. So many of his motions are like that, designed to give him better knowledge of his surroundings. The tools he used to use for surveillance of the enemy, he now uses to catch the rare smiles on Leia's face. He knows that smiles like those are not meant for wartime, that if things were different, she might not need to keep the brilliant, joyful expressions locked away, but he also knows that if things were different, he'd have no reason to have get to known a princess like her. 

Though he'd always known of her, in the way he knew of the light of far-off stars, it hadn't been until they'd both been assigned mission control that they'd gotten to know each other as comrades. Perhaps, he thinks, even as friends, though Cassian uses that word as rarely as Leia smiles.

Leia says, “I’ve noticed these always disappear when you are the one monitoring through the night. Surely, though, that’s merely a coincidence.”

“Surely,” he echoes, but there is a glimmer of humor in his dark eyes as he reaches for the bright curl of citrus peel in the center of the tray. Doing so, he watches as she smiles, then turns to hide it behind a hand, as if it is some illicit thing.

Cassian lifts the candy and carefully takes a bite. Leia sips her tea. Her smile has melted into an altogether inscrutable expression. But the moment itself, Cassian finds, is warm, and comfortable. Far more comfortable than he thinks any moment has a right to be in a time like this. Though they'd both been assigned to the control room, neither had been asked to take on all night vigils. Those, the two had each decided on their own, to do, as a duty born of loyalty to the cause. Now though, he wonders if his choice had a little more to do with the chance to spend more time with the princess than he had admitted to himself earlier.

Or perhaps, his enjoyment of her company had grown the way the first flowers of spring did, fighting forward in the midst of impossible cold.

The candy is sweet, as few things are in a war.

* * *

That mission, and their vigil, ends. But for both of them, the feeling of watching, of waiting, that does not cease. They embrace their friends, celebrate the win, but all the while, both the former princess and the former spy are stealing looks back in the other’s direction. Never at the same time, though. Never aware of the other one’s glances, any more than a sun could be aware of a moon.

Neither of them would dare to say it, but when they go back to their routines, Leia to her Jedi practice with Luke and Cassian to his training of new recruits, both of them find themselves missing the quiet intimacy of their long nights watching and waiting.

Neither of them name their longing for what it could be, pretending instead they simply miss feeling useful. They both know there is little time for something as sweet as love during a war.

* * *

Time passes. The war continues, though it has begun to wind down. Around the base, others begin to plan, to dream, of a time after war.

For others, those that are often called heroes by the newer recruits, the time after war remains as distant as the thought of rest. There is so much more work to be done, so many more battles to fight.

Once more, the spy and the princess are back to staring at screens full of data. Once more, minutes turn to hours, and hours into a long evening, waiting and watching.

This time, though, there is a change in the air. Leia notices it first, sees the difference in the way Cassian stands. He’s changed, somehow, in these last few months. He seems taller, more well-rested. If she closes her eyes, his heartbeat feels all the stronger, like a younger man’s. “What is it?” she asks him.

“I’ve received a new assignment.”

“Oh.” Usually, that phrase does not bring forth such hope.

“To Fest,” he adds, his voice as soft as a feather against skin.

“Oh,” she says again, her tone altogether different. She’d forgotten that for some, there is a home to return to, after the war.

“They’d like me to be in charge of rebuilding our capital’s infrastructure.”

“I see.” Leia wonders what meeting this was decided in, and why she didn’t know about it already. She used to keep better track of such things. She recalls, dimly, falling asleep in the corner while Mon Mothma was delivering some sort of long term planning presentation. Only now does Leia think that just maybe, she should have stayed awake for that one.

“They say that we won’t need so much monitoring, with these last few battles,” Cassian nods down at the map. “Most of the Imps are outright surrendering now.”

That, Leia did remember from her briefings. “That’s true.”

“And you?”

“I… I what?” Leia blinks, caught off guard.

“What plans have you made?” A dry chuckle escapes him. “Or have had made for you.”

“No plans,” she drops her gaze, down to the glowing dots below. It’s true that most battles now pass without the soldiers requiring her help. Just as most meetings occur without her input. She’s a princess without a planet, a leader without a war to fight. “But I’m sure there will be something.” If nothing else, she’ll be a figurehead once more, decked out in an ivory gown and provided medals to pass out, as if a hunk of metal will somehow heal all the wounds of war.

“What would you like to do?” he asks.

“Sleep.”

“Me too,” he replies. Out of the corner of her eye, Leia catches the blush spreading over Cassian’s cheeks. She’s confused, until her thoughts catch up, and then, she blushes too.

“I’ll go get us some tea,” Leia hurries to say, turning in a cloud of cloak and long hair.

Her embarrassment is enough to make her pause on the other side of the door, her hands covering her face. She’s a fool. A fool for thinking that long nights keeping watch could lead to anything, a fool for hoping that anything might occur between a forgotten princess and a retired spy.

She’s a fool for thinking she could find love during a war, and a bigger fool for forgetting that after the war, Cassian would have no reason to stay near her.

* * *

He doesn’t want Leia to leave. Cassian holds out his hand, trying to find anything that feels like the right thing to say. But by the time he does, the door closes.

It’s a feeling he knows all too well. The feeling of being just a little too late, a little too silent, in the moment where words would matter most. He’s imagined a hundred times the things he wished he could say to her, but each time he has the chance, the words fade like snow caught in his hand.

Now, it’s worse, knowing he is running out of time.

He glances down at the data screens below. There are no enemy units at all. The troops, his friends, his comrades, are safe. But his future, he realizes, is not. As quickly as he can manage, Cassian crosses the room and opens the door.

Leia is still there, leaning against the wall, her face in her hands.

He says her name, as gently as he can. He’s not sure he’s ever said her name before, at least, not like that. She’s always been a princess or a commander. Never someone he could just… speak to. “Leia,” he says again, gaining courage. “Come with me?”

“Back to the command room?”

“Well, yes. But…” his heart races as all those forbidden emotions, longing and love and hope, mingle. “After, too. Come with me to Fest.”

She drops her hands so she can look up at him. “Really?”

“We’ll find something for you to do there,” he promises, offering her his hand.

“There’s always work to be done, I suppose.”

“There’s more than just work,” he says, though he personally has forgotten the truth of that statement. “Come with me. I’ll teach you to skim-ski and how to grow in a greenhouse made of ice.”

Come with me, he wants to say, and together, we can grow a future.

“Why?” she asks. “Why me?”

“You’re,” Cassian begins, but drops his gaze once more. He finds himself longing for the distraction of the glowing screens in the other room.

Leia rushes to fill in the silence. “A capable commander? Calm? Focused?”

“Sweet,” he says softly. “You’re sweet.”

His hand closes gently over Leia’s. She smiles, covering it with her other hand. Like ice thawing, Cassian thinks, the watching and waiting has ended. Their long nights will give way to simple days and cozy evenings. Their vigils will fade as they find new ways to pass the time.

They will work together, not to save the lives of soldiers far away from them, but to save their own futures.

“Thank you,” Leia says. “And, for what it’s worth… you’re sweet too.”

He chuckles softly. Sweet isn’t a word he’s ever been described as before. But here, in this abandoned hallway, on this empty base, it feels right.

Leia leans up on her tiptoes. A moment later, her lips brush against his, a kiss just as sweet as anything else in the galaxy. If not more so, because of how unexpected, how surprising, it was.

“Let’s get back to work,” she says. “Until the war is over.”

“Until the war is over,” he echoes.

“But after…” she squeezes his hand, not letting go. “I think I would like Fest a great deal.”

It's a simple sentence, but it is a promise, sweet and true. Both of them are the type not to offer a promise if they do not intend to keep it. "I believe you will," Cassian replies, offering his own sort of promise. "After all, spending this time with you has not been half-bad."

"Not half-bad at all," Leia says, and for once, her smile does not disappear. 

Something altogether wonderful blooms in Cassian’s heart as the two of them walk, hand in hand, back to the control room.


End file.
